


Paranoia (or not)

by Artherra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Dark Sam Winchester, Gen, mention of canon-typical unhealthy coping strategies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16180640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artherra/pseuds/Artherra
Summary: Prompt: Sam is different somehow. Somebody close to him notices.





	Paranoia (or not)

They hadn’t visited often that year. Sometimes it made her a bit paranoid, sometimes sad.  
If any of them died she wouldn’t even know.  
But Jody knew that even in that case they’d come back, one way or another, and she would never know what happened.  
It was a relief then, when she heard the knock on her door and saw then through the window.  
They looked a bit older, unsurprisingly, a bit more shaken, with scars she didn’t remember.  
But they were the same when she let them in, making bad jokes and laughing at even worse ones and complimenting the food she made as quickly as possible, just for them.  
She watched out for changes, for holes in their stories and for signs that they weren’t as okay as they wanted her to believe.  
Dean’s strained humor was the first thing she noticed, but she didn’t give it much attention. He was always the kind of person who hides any and all bad things that happen under a decorative rug made of fake humor and alcoholism. She knew a lot of similar people.  
Sam, though. Something bugged her about him, but she wasn’t able to pinpoint what. There was no obvious change in him. He was still caring, still optimistic, if a bit more shaken, with shadows in his eyes. He stood a little straighter, and she could swear she hadn’t seen his hands tremble even once in the whole evening.  
(She felt a bit guilty for associating that with him.)  
She knew something was wrong. Or not necessarily wrong, just...different. And she wanted to know what. She wanted to know what happened, what they’d had to live through yet again.  
It made her feel like a delusional conspiracy theorist.

Her chance to ask came when Dean left, well past midnight, presumably to either sleep or continue drinking alone. She waited until he left, mostly for no other reason than to not ruin the evening, especially when it looked like he started to have fun for real.  
“Hey, Sam,” she approached him as he sat alone in the living room, as far as possible from the lamp for some reason, “Is everything ok? With you and Dean?”  
She sat on a chair next to him, watching how he played with a locked pocket knife in his hand, and began noticing just how nervous she was.  
He, on the other hand, was completely calm. Hands perfectly steady. Eyes almost radiating cold.  
“Yeah, of course. What do you think?” he answered in his calm, kind voice, that just didn’t match up this once.  
She looked away, at his reflection in one of the windows.  
“Sure, we have our disagreements...” he continued after she didn’t answer and just kind of stared at him with a half doubtful, half saddened expression. “But we’re fine. Nothing for you to worry about.”  
“I’m just worried about you, you know that.” Jody clarified, ignoring the sudden feeling of cold, “You go through a lot of shit that you never tell me about. I know something happened this year, I just know, and I’m worried. Motherly instinct and all that.”  
She brushed over her main issue, too nervous to ask him outright. What would she say, anyway? ‘Sorry, but I feel there’s something wrong with you in some way I can’t put my hand on, please spill your secrets’? Besides, Dean seemed fine, just the same as always.  
Maybe she’s the one in the wrong.  
Sam smiled at her and the feeling of cold washed over her again.  
“I appreciate that, I do. Even Dean does. But like I said, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”  
His smile was everything but reassuring and she unknowingly leaned away as he flipped the knife the last time and put it in his pocket before standing up.  
“If you need to worry about something, try Dean's sleeping habits. He's probably watching porn again, sneaking around like a teenager,” He commented jokingly, turning away, and whatever she felt, it’s gone in a second.  
He pretended to yawn, before continuing:  
“You know what? I’m gonna go to sleep. Long day tomorrow and all that. Good night, Jody.”  
She stared at him as he walked off, noticing how he walked like a king, elegant and relaxed, without making a sound.

She couldn’t sleep that night. Maybe it was the coldness, or the paranoia, the feeling that something is loose in her house, waiting, building the strategy for the perfect strike.  
But maybe it was because she could swear that she saw Sam’s eyes turn golden in his reflection in the window.


End file.
